


eternity and an hour

by lesyeuxverts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism, blink-and-you'll-miss-it breathplay, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesyeuxverts/pseuds/lesyeuxverts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape with the Resurrection Stone in the Shrieking Shack</p>
            </blockquote>





	eternity and an hour

Severus Snape watched men and women, fools and incompetent dunderheads alike, find happiness they never deserved, gasping and moaning in each other's arms. They loved each other, touched each other as they moved together, their faces scrunched and ugly when they came.  
  
Being dead was … difficult. Severus knew he would never find such bliss. In spite of everything he had done, he was not rewarded with companionship, love, or even a sweaty fumble. He floated through the world, spying on an infinite number of variations on fucking … half-hard, he reached down to stroke his cock as he watched.  
  
Insubstantial, he brought himself no real relief.  
  
The afterlife, though solid and gleaming, was no better than life had been. From the train station at King's Cross, the train had whistled and then Dumbledore gave Severus one sherbet lemon before wandering off, a gleam in his eye as he looked for Gellert. Lily dragged Severus onto one of the trains and let him fall asleep to the chug-chug-chug of the engine and the clatter of the train on the tracks and, when they arrived in Godric's Hollow, she pestered Severus for news of her precious boy for half an hour. Then she left him and went off with Potter, their arms laced together as they ducked into a carbon copy of their honeymoon cottage.   
  
Severus had crept close to the window, had watched them couple against the wall, Potter sliding into Lily as her fingers clenched around his shoulders. The endearments and pet nicknames they had murmured as they lay together, afterwards – that had been sickening, and the only reason why Severus had hurried away.  
  
Save for Pettigrew – still sniveling at the hem of the thing that had been the Dark Lord, for all that Severus knew or cared – the Marauders were wrapped up in each other. Potter had his Lily. Black and Lupin had gone to the replica of Hogwarts and were fucking their way through all of the rooms. Severus had wanked himself raw, watching them go through the first floor, watching them stop in the Great Hall to christen each of the tables and all of the professors' chairs.  
  
Before long, Black shifted from threatening his mongrel cousin Tonks, to comforting Lupin over her death and then finally to cuddling with him – _cuddling_ , in the name of Salazar himself. Love turned men into fools, and some men were fools to begin with. Severus had seen enough.  
  
It was then that he drifted back to the world of the living, taking the train back to King's Cross.   
  
Without Lily next to him this time, without anyone there to see him, Severus had wanked on the train, stroking himself to the rhythm of the train's movement. He'd seen it all again – Black and Lupin, Potter and Lily, Albus and Gellert, a hundred nameless Muggles and a hundred wizards of no import. Their faces faded away when he came and he bit his lip hard enough to leave a bruise. Orgasm was enough to make him glow, to give him the halo that angels had and that living men and women found with each other for fleeting moments.  
  
Severus had been a fool for love once. He fingered the scars on his neck, raised ridges of flesh that felt hard and cool. Between one heartbeat and the next, he felt the scars disappear under his fingers. He'd leaned against the barrier as casually as if he were returning to Hogwarts for a new year, and he'd melted into nothing, becoming insubstantial at once. He lost the hazy glow that he'd had in the afterlife.  
  
He felt a tug behind his navel and felt the world spin out of control, almost as if he had been whisked away by a Portkey. It was impossible – magic didn't apply to the dead – it was impossible, but it happened, and Severus bit his lip again as he landed. He was almost substantial when he hit the ground, the bite almost hard enough to hurt.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
Potter was kneeling on the floor and reaching out to touch Severus, the Resurrection Stone in his outstretched hand. It was Potter, infuriating and alive, and he was the first person who had tried to touch Severus in what felt like an eternity.   
  
It would be longer still before Severus felt another person's touch. He jerked away from Potter. "What?"  
  
"I wanted to–"  
  
Severus took a step back as Potter took a step forward. They were too close, and Severus could almost fancy that they breathed the same air, that he felt the heat of Potter's body, that he lived and could touch him.  
  
"Say it and let me be gone," Severus said. Called by the Stone, he was too substantial here – not solid enough to touch or be touched by Potter, but too solid to melt through the wall.   
  
He had died for this boy – in the end, after everything, Severus had died for him, and Potter had lived. In this Shack, in this dusty room, Severus had died for him.  
  
"You're here," Potter said. "I – I wanted to talk to you again, I–"  
  
"Yes," Severus said. He raised a hand to stroke the scars on his neck and watched Potter's eyes follow the movement. He felt more solid, moment by moment – he felt alive, as he had not felt since– "Spit out the melodramatic tripe that you summoned me to hear, and then you can get on with your life and I can get on with my afterlife."  
  
Potter's face was hard, all lines and mulish angles – he had not changed, he had not been changed by death. He had his mother's stubbornness still. He stepped closer to Severus and touched him, one hand wrapping around Severus's neck and stroking the scars there.  
  
"I never believed in you," he said. "I never trusted you – it's true. No melodrama, Professor, and no soppy sentiment. I know that's not what you want."  
  
Severus stayed against the wall, the boards pressing against his shoulder blades. Potter's hand was warm on his throat, fingers pressing into Severus's flesh. Severus could have struggled or moved away – he could have wished for the nothingness of death, slipping like a ghost through the wall, but it was the first time he had been touched in forever and Potter's fingers felt good on his skin.  
  
"You were a bastard," Potter said. "You were a bastard, a spiteful and petty man, and there wasn't much to like about you. But you – you were one of the bravest men I knew." He stopped, clearing his throat, and his grip loosened enough for Severus to pull away.  
  
Potter's eyes fluttered shut, black lashes hiding the green, and Severus looked down at the scuffed and scratched floorboards. The Shack was as decrepit as it had always been, scarred by Lupin's rages and Black's pranks. Potter's father had saved Severus here, in the tunnel leading to this room.  
  
The floor had been scrubbed, it seemed, but it still bore the marks of its history. Potter scuffed at a stain with his toe, the brownish splotch of dried blood covered up with dust.   
  
"Don't bring it up," Severus said, stepping close enough to Potter to warn him. "Grant me some peace, at least."  
  
"You … thank you," Potter said. He reached out to touch Severus again, his fingers brushing against Severus's knuckles, and then he turned to leave. He might have looked back, but Severus didn't watch him go.  
  
It was nothing that he had done for Potter – it was nothing. Severus knelt on the floor, on the faded stain of his own blood, and reached out to trace the grain of the wood. He touched the Resurrection Stone. It was cold to his touch, he was not real, he was not alive, and Severus took some comfort in that. It was over.  
  
He was solid, real enough to touch himself and bring himself relief, not real enough to die again. Severus closed his eyes as he slipped his hand into his trousers, able to touch himself here and now. He'd wanted this since he died, ever since he had seen all of the dead going to their new lives in pairs, ever since he had watched James fucking Lily and Black taking Remus on the Headmaster's chair.   
  
Severus was half-hard already, thinking of it, and he slid his hand down to cradle his balls, rolling them in his fingers. He was solid, real enough for this, and Severus still felt the tingle of Potter's touch on his throat. Finger by finger, he copied Potter's grip on his throat. He fisted his cock, arching his back as he breathed hard, feeling the pressure of his fingers on his scars.   
  
It was good – better than when he'd hidden in the roses and wisteria wreathing Godric's Hollow, better than when he'd hidden in the shadows and behind the tapestries in Hogwarts. The Resurrection Stone made him real enough to enjoy this, alive enough to touch himself and feel it.   
  
Potter was his father's son, his mother's son, but he was more than either of them. He had brought Severus here to thank him, and that was more than his parents had ever done. It was more than anyone had done for Severus after the battle – it was not enough.   
  
Severus licked his dry lips, his hips thrusting as he stroked himself. He wanted more, he needed more. His hand was still on his throat, his fingers pressed into his scars. He thought of Potter as he came.  
  
Being dead was easy, sometimes. Severus knew that there'd be no awkward morning after, no denial or betrayal or heartbreak. He'd never have to see Potter again.  
  
He wiped his hand clean on his trousers, Banishing the mess with a thought. Magic was easier than it had ever been, and he felt light and free. He drifted closer to the wall, ready to slip out into the world.   
  
Potter came dashing down the tunnel, his footsteps loud enough to echo through Severus. "Professor ... Professor ..."  
  
Severus stayed long enough to watch Potter's disappointment, long enough to watch him pick up the Resurrection Stone and leave the way he had come, still in a hurry. Potter had a life to live, time pressing on his shoulders. Men were foolish and men were fools to love, but they had so little time for it. It was never enough.  
  
Shaking his head, Severus slipped through the walls of the Shack and out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. There was a hint of sunlight through the pearly clouds. There were men and women to watch, foolish mortals here and besotted fools in the world beyond, and someday – someday he'd see Harry again.


End file.
